


Mr & Mrs

by chartreuseian



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-01-26 01:37:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12545896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chartreuseian/pseuds/chartreuseian
Summary: One incident of indecent exposure was all it took for Nikola Tesla to end up with a bride. A reluctant, bristling and utterly beautiful bride. But would he lose a friend too?





	1. Jitters

Taking a deep breath, Nikola fixed his gaze on the ornate stained glass window that towered over the congregation muttering behind him. He could only make out snippets of conversation from time to time but, what little he heard did nothing for the trembling of his limbs that had begun at daybreak.

Or perhaps it had started the night before?

After all, he’d barely slept, tossing and turning until the pink light of dawn had reached his tired eyes. It was not the first time Nikola had been up to watch the sunrise yet this time it had seemed different; not so much the dawning of a new day as it was the dawning of a new era.

He shivered as a gust of frigid air swept through the old church, a waft of unfamiliar incense filling his nose. He’d been in many churches before, his father demanding attendance at every sermon until the day Nikola turned 18, however, since arriving in England, he’d made a point of avoiding such structures. He seriously doubted he would have been able to find a community practicing the Serbian Orthodox faith of his childhood, even if he had so desired.

In fact, that was what made this whole situation so much more laughable. He was not a follower of the Church of England and he doubted the man forcing him to participate in this ritual could honestly call himself a man of God with his devotion to science and the scientific world. It was all so... so... so... He couldn’t find the word in English, his frustrations bubbling up in his native tongue alone.

It was unfair.

There were other words, stronger words but unfair seemed to sum it all up rather neatly. And Nikola never had been one for flowery words and verbose descriptions. So he would settle for unfair, even if it did not come close to covering the scope of the crime being committed against him.

He still could not quite understand how things had gotten to a point where he was standing at a Catholic alter, wearing top hat and morning coat, surround by people he did not know, let alone like as he waited for a priest to walk in and lecture him on the religious principles he fought as a child.

His father would have been furious.

The thought of his father sent a fresh bolt of cold sweat around Nikola’s body and he swallowed reflexively. Though they had never gotten on, his father had ingrained into Nikola a strong sense of moral obligation that was currently warring with his better judgement.

For all he knew he would be subjected to fury, the likes of which he had not seen since Dane’s passing, Nikola dearly wished he could have summoned the courage to even write to his father for advice. He knew his obligations, he knew he was required to protect his friend in any way he could yet still, there was a niggling sense of wrong-doing that he felt he didn’t deserve.

Sighing, Nikola shifted his weight and closed his eyes, trying his best to ignore the eyes he could feel on his back. All he needed to do was steady himself. It was a trick he had developed as a boy, teased mercilessly through out school and in need of an escape. Whenever he felt lost or alone or afraid, all he had to do was settle himself, find a steady centre within him that would allow him to think clearly.

Today, however, it was not working.

He rolled his shoulders, trying to adjust the too big coat he’d been stuffed into a few hours earlier. Despite the unseasonably cool September weather, he felt over-heated and over-dressed. The slick in his hair was running down his neck, an over-zealous attack on the flyaway strands now coming back to haunt him. He had been desperate to present the image of a proper gentleman, despite his cussings late into the night. It felt like his duty, no matter how little he wanted to be there.

After all, he owed that to her, didn’t he? He owed her something better, something more than he could give yet he would try. How could he not? How could he enter into this any other way? He had to give her all that he had, all that he was and all that he was capable of being. She deserved that, at the very least.

And then he heard the wedding march begin.

He reached up and smoothed down the thick moustache on his upper lip, swallowing as he closed his eyes once more. His arms began to shake again, his knees threatening to give out on him while his hands desperately twisted against one another, no doubt ruining the silk gloves he had been loaned for the occasion.

His heart hammered in his chest, the air in the room suddenly drying up until his lungs felt deprived and shrunken. He needed to get out, to breathe, to lay down. It was all too much, too terrifying, though his mind still struggled to understand what was happening to him. He looked up towards the alter again, trying to focus on the white lilies that decorated the space

The priest was standing before him, looking unreasonably solemn in his pristine robes. Nikola heard the collective intake of breath of the congregation behind him as they all moved to stand. The unmistakable creak of old hinges echoed through the cavernous space while fresh air rushed up the aisle, tickling what little of Nikola’s skin was exposed to the autumnal air and suddenly he could not resist the urge to look back.

He wasn’t supposed to, that had been drilled into him during the rehearsal. He was supposed to face the front. He was supposed to wait.

But as the music began to swell, the harmonies drifting around the church and up to the spires, he could not stop himself from turning, a shaky gasp slipping through his lips as his eyes went wide at the image before him.

The wind was apparently stronger than he realised, whipping her hair into a golden halo of mussed curls that fell about her face haphazardly while a few red and gold leaves swirled about her feet, carried in on the breeze. The lace of her skirt was flattened against the curves of her body, the wind silhouetting her figure. It was not a dress of the current fashions, of that Nikola was sure. The cut seemed too daring yet it was forward enough for this bride, he decided.

There was a shadow of a man behind her, yet she stood strong, apart from anyone and everyone else. He could not make out her features behind the veil she wore, yet he could picture the elegant dignity with which she would be holding herself.

Though they had barely seen one another over the course of their ‘engagement’, Nikola finally began to feel somewhat at ease. This was not what he wanted, and he was sure it was not what she wanted either, yet perhaps it could work. Perhaps, with her, this might not be the end of his life, so much as it was the start...

He smiled then, noticing for the first time that around her lithe waist, Helen Magnus had tied a deep red ribbon.


	2. Indecent Exposure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But how did they get themselves into this position?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha. Posting. Regularly. Right... Soz.

3 months previous:

“Nikola!” a desperate voice cried from the other side of his laboratory door. “Nikola, please. Are you in?”

Brow creasing in concern, Nikola abandoned the delicate instruments of his experiment in favour of moving towards the large oak door. Now, his impromptu guest had taken to slamming a fist against the structure, the racket clearly designed to get not only his attention but that of any one within the vicinity.

“Nikol-“

Helen’s cry stopped dead as he pulled open the door.

“Helen,” Nikola said by way of greeting, frowning at her. “What in the name of-“

And then he saw. His eyes, as they had come to do whenever Helen approached, had scanned her person, taking in the tight, corseted waist of her dress as it developed into the swell of her skirts as they hid her figure, however, today, his eyes had come to linger not on the strict construction of her gown, rather the fearsome tear in the lavender fabric that extended from hem to waist despite the way Helen’s hand grasped at the fabric.

Even more worrying, however, was the dark red splotches that marred the fabric. And, it seemed, extended a fair way up Helen’s forearm, even staining the white lace cuff that poked out beneath.

“Let me in,” she huffed, giving him a dark look. Nikola, somewhat speechless, allowed for her to push him aside with a dark little growl, what was left of her skirts swishing about angrily as she stormed into the room.

With a glance out to ensure that their conversation had not attracted any unwanted guests, Nikola shut the door before turning back to his guest who had taken it upon herself to perch on his stool.

“What in the name of all that is holy have you done to yourself now?” Nikola asked, warily moving closer to her.

Helen shot him a dark look before pushing back a few curls that had fallen loose from the elegant concoction that spilled out from beneath the brim of her matching lavender coloured hat. With a muttered curse, she pulled the hat off and threw it across the room, her eyes darkening to a point where Nikola would dispute the intelligence of approaching her.

However, for all his genius, he was not always an intelligent man. All too soon he found himself standing beside a very irate Helen Magnus.

“One of father’s abnormals escaped,” she told him by way of explanation. “I went after it however it managed to find its way onto the street.”

“And you didn’t think to call on your father for help?”

“He and James left for London this morning, Nikola,” she said sharply, rolling her eyes. “Trust you to forget.”

“I did not forget,” he retorted. “I had remembered that we were to have dinner this evening, I had simply... let the remembrance of particularly why slide.”

Helen snorted in laughter for a brief moment before her face contracted in pain.

Nikola moved closer instantly, hovering uncertainly by her side.

“I... I came for your emergency supply kit,” Helen ground out.

“I have only bandages and stiches,” Nikola replied, growing increasingly worried.

“I am aware,” she said, closing her eyes as she pulled her arm close to her side. The hand gripping the stool shook ever so slightly with the effort of keeping upright on the chair and Nikola wanted rather desperately to put an arm around her to at least relieve the pressure, yet he was too afraid of hurting her further.

Instead, he turned to the nearest bench and, with a sweep of his arm, cleared it of the scattered elements of his work before turning back to Helen.

“Hold very still,” he told her before leaning forwards and scooping her into his arms. Helen yelped and struggled and he very nearly dropped her, however, in some kind of miracle, he managed to turn and deposit her on the now clear surface.

Helen squealed and grunted in pain as he pushed her onto the bench before turning her angriest glare on him.

“Some warning next time, Nikola!” she scolded.

“You would have insisted on doing it yourself,” he replied with a shrug, not allowing himself to focus on the thrill he felt at the sensation of holding her in his arms. Their friendship was a strange relationship and always had been, yet lately Nikola had found himself feeling far more tender emotions for the lovely young creature that was Helen Magnus though he had yet to allow himself the opportunity to explore just what such feelings could mean.

“And I would have managed,” Helen retorted, though he was pleased to note that her tone was more teasing than before.

“Lie back,” Nikola said with a sigh as he went to collect the small kit of medicinal supplies Helen had put together for him after one too many accidents in the laboratory. “And tell me what happened.”

Then it was Helen’s turn to sigh. He heard the shuffling of fabric as she eased herself back to a comfortable position, followed by a small grunt of pain.

“It was nothing,” Helen said, using what John had once termed her ‘reasonable’ voice.

“Nothing that requires stiches?”

“I... It is just a scratch.”

“Tell me, Helen. With your father gone and James with him, who else will watch to ensure you do not suffer infection?”

“How could I suffer infection in a place as meticulously clean as your workspaces?” she teased. Nikola had to smile at that as he searched for the kit. It was not his workspace, really, merely a lab he had laid claim to that no one dared enter, lest his experiments injure them. One foolhardy fellow had done just that and, to this day, Nigel swore his eyebrows were no longer the same. But really, it had been more than six months. Nikolai was mostly sure the grumbling was in jest.

“Helen,” Nikola said, shaking his head as he turned back to her.

“I promise, it was nothing,” she said, giving him a small smile. It was enough to melt his resolve a little and, as he moved towards where she lay sprawled across his workbench, he felt his demeanour soften.

“Nothing doesn’t ruin dresses,” he said softly. “Or involve this much blood.”

He pulled the stool over to sit beside her, hands carefully lifting the sodden fabric of her dress out of the way. Just before he was to expose her, he looked up and caught her gaze, lifting an eye brow and she nodded, granting permission despite the way her teeth worried her bottom lip.

Nikola couldn’t help but gasp as he peeled away the layers of skirts to expose a stockinged thigh, slick with blood. Three deep scratches marred the otherwise pale flesh.

“Claws,” he breathed.

The silk of her stockings was torn, the garters shredded and falling away from her leg as the blood snaked down and down and down, soaked through the thickness of her stockings to pool around the cuff of her sturdy leather boots.

“Oh, Helen,” Nikola murmured, eyes tracing the damage. Among the blood higher up her leg, the unmistakable imprint of bite marks lingered, a deep bruise just beginning to blossom.

“I chased it all the way to the campus,” she admitted softly. “I lost it to a sewer pipe but not before it had a go at me.

“This is more than having a go,” Nikola said, his chest constricting. “Helen, this is serious. We ought to find a real doctor-“

“No,” she said firmly. “We can deal with it ourselves. I know it isn’t nearly as bad as it looks. And what’s more, I cannot think of a way in which we could explain this to an authority without sounding daft. Or inciting panic in the community. The creature is due to begin its hibernation tonight so we shall have three months in which to retrieve it. I can heal while it sleeps.”

“I do not care for the creature, Helen,” Nikola replied hotly. “It does not matter.”

“How can you say that?” she cried, trying to sit up. “It is an incredibly rare sub-species of Gorilla that requires incredibly precise care and containment.”

“I do not care,” he repeated. “You are the only thing that matters to me, Helen. Only you. Do you understand? You cannot run off and... and... and...” He swore loudly in Serbian, startling Helen though he couldn’t find it in himself to care at that moment. She was injured, perhaps gravely so and he was no doctor.

For a long moment, neither of them said anything. It took a while, but quickly Nikola’s impromptu speech came back to him and he felt his cheeks pinking in embarrassment. He hadn’t meant to divulge quite so much information. He knew John was in the process of begging Helen for a date and, while he had no clue as to her feelings and whether the want was reciprocated, it had been made clear to him that he could lay claim to no more of Helen than a passing friendship.

“Nikola,” she finally said, her voice soft. Her hand was reaching for him and with great care, he reached out and took her fingers in his. She drew him back towards the table with gentle looks and, before he knew it, Nikola was leaning over her leg once more, cleaning away the blood with gentle touches that still made her wince.

For several minutes, he worked in silence until, out of nowhere, he felt Helen’s hand reach up and touch his shoulder. He started, turning to her but Helen only smiled encouragingly at him as if bidding him to return to work.

“You are too good to me,” she said softly as his hands resumed their work.

Nikola merely shook his head as he reached for a beaker of water, hiding his smile.

“Do promise you will try and be attacked slightly less?” he asked.

“I never plan for it,” Helen replied, squeezing his upper arm.

“And yet here we are,” he muttered.

Helen chuckled and lay back once more, lacing her fingers over her stomach.

As he worked, Nikola felt his heart rate slow to a more sensible rate. Helen had been right, the wound was not as ghastly as it had first seemed. With the blood gone, he could see that the marks were rather shallow for all that they extended a startling distance around her thigh. Carefully, he peeled away the ruined stocking, pushing it down her leg to better expose the wound. It was not until afterwards that he realised his actions may have been somewhat out of line.

With the fear that had consumed him upon seeing her wound, he had forgotten the fact that she was barely clothed in front of him. He could see far more of her body than he had ever been privy to before, everything from ankle to the tops of her bloomers on display for him. And it was all the beautiful, milky white flesh his dreams had led him to believe.

He shook himself slightly, forcing his focus back to the task at hand. It would do no good to dwell on her state of undress. After all, it was only for the sake of dressing her wound. And she was his friend. His only true friend. What good could come of his fixation on her exposed limb?

“Should this salve do?” he asked, handing to her the vial she had packed into his kit. “It is all I have and I dare not search out more until this wound is dressed.”

She studied it for a moment before nodding her consent.

“It will suffice,” she allowed. “However I will have the maids help me dress it this evening with something stronger.”

Nikola nodded, taking back the vial before opening it and gingerly applying it to the wound. Helen hissed at first contact and he winced, her pain sending prickles of unease up his spine.

“I am fine,” Helen ground out, apparently sensing his discomfort. “Please, keep going.”

Steeling himself, Nikola applied the solution to her thigh as quickly as he dared, the backs of his fingers brushing against the smooth skin of her leg too often to allow his brain the concentration it needed. There was something fascinating about her leg, about the way the skin felt against his, about the small mole he could see as the only blemish of the otherwise flawless canvas. Not that it was a flaw. It was rather lovely and, despite his problems with germs and touching others, he found himself draw to it and the idea of touching her. Perhaps there were others he could discover, too?

“Is it deep?” Helen asked, snapping him out of his revere.

“Not at all,” he replied, clearing his throat. “I am no doctor but I do not believe you shall require stitches. Thank heaven’s.”

“Your hands are more than steady enough,” she replied with a small smile. “And gentle, too. I am sensing that you could make a marvellous doctor, if you so choose, Nikola.”

“I shall leave such messy professions to you,” he teased. “I shall stick with my pure sciences and leave the mucking about to those more inclined to mess.”

Helen laughed rather freely at that before wincing.

“Regardless,” she replied, slightly out of breath, “I’d be much obliged if you could at the very least cover the wound so I can return home. You are a mighty fine doctor, Nikola, however I would like to assess the damage with my own eyes.”

“Hand me those bandages,” Nikola replied, eyeing up the claw marks across her skin. They were far less menacing all cleaned up, yet the prospect of dressing a wound had his stomach heaving. Just the thought of the infections she could harbor made him worry.

As quickly as he could manage, he tightly bound her thigh, making sure to cover the angry red marks completely before stepping back and surveying his work. Helen, to assist in the process, had raised her leg from the table, further fabric falling away to expose her body. What was left of her skirts pooled between her legs and, as she moved to sit up, Nikola could not help but wonder how she had made it to his door without being seen.

“Help me up,” Helen gasped, reaching for him as her cheeks turned pink. One of her hands held her side tightly, wrapped across her body as if to cradle not only ribs but the hand Nikola had noticed was most bloodied.

“There is more,” he said quietly, dismayed at the state she was in. Injury such as this was not unheard of in Helen’s chosen field, yet he found himself questioning the frequency with which Helen found herself at the mercy of an abnormal. Mostly, they were harmless, but it seemed that the dangerous ones were only becoming more so.

“I tripped,” Helen admitted softly. “Well, not so much tripped... The creature, it... It has quite a mass, in fact the way in which its body stores muscle is rather fascinating. Did you kno-“

“What did it do to you, Helen?”

“I... I think I may have a-“ She sucked in a sharp breath, pursing her lips before continuing. “A broken rib. At the very least, it is bruised.”

“Helen,” Nikola murmured, unable to keep the dismay from his tone. He reached out with one hand, laying his fingers across hers as they gently probed her corseted side.

She smiled tightly at him, still taking measured little breaths.

“We must get you to a doctor,” he continued, working to keep his tone even. Her injuries were too great for him to take care of, and despite her medical training, he shuddered at the thought of her managing on her own.

“Nonsense,” Helen replied airily, waving a hand in his direction. “All I need is to get home and have a good night of rest.”

Then she pursed her lips and cocked her head.

“Though I would not mind getting out of this torturous corset.”

“H-here?” Nikola spluttered, eyes going wide. Helen turned to look at him, something dangerous brewing in her eyes.

“I had not meant that,” she allowed. “However-“

“Helen,” Nikola began.

“Come help,” she instructed rather tersely, her hands flying over the front of her dress. Nikola watched helplessly as the buttons and ties gave way all too easily until Helen was able to shrug out of the stained top, leaving it to puddle messily at her feet.

It was all Nikola could do to stare at the discarded fabric, the tips of his ears burning hot at the thought of exposed Helen.

“Helen,” Nikola tried again.

“The ties at the back,” she huffed. “Cut them.”

“I-I. Helen.”

“Please, Niko. Just... just cut them. I need to breathe again.”

He looked up slowly, his throat closing over as he looked at the expanse of skin that peeked out from beneath her chemise. The tightness of her corset made the sheer fabric billow around her slight frame but Nikola’s eyes could not stray from the curve of her neck. Helen always preferred the high collared dresses that were at the height of fashion, a style designed for an older woman, rather than someone of her tender years and so Nikola rarely saw her neck. There was something about the soft lines of it that had him entranced and so it wasn’t until Helen was thrusting a knife in his direction that he realised just what was going on.

“Hurry, Nikola,” she said softly.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice rising several octaves.

“Positive,” came her reply.

And so, despite his trembling hands, Nikola raised the small knife (from where Helen had pulled it, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know) and placed it beneath the hard knot at the top of the corset and pressed. It took some careful manoeuvring but, finally, the cord gave way.

Nikola dropped the knife as if it had burnt him, his fingers then fumbling with the loosened laces. He heard Helen’s sigh of relief as it began to give way but, as he approached the waist band of her skirt, he was presented with yet another problem.

“Uh, Helen?” he began. “I-I do not know... How can I...”

Helen, far more clever than him in that moment, simply bought her hand around to the small button clasps that ran over the curve of her buttocks, tugging at the silk covered buttons until enough gave way that she could slip the skirts, full of fluff and lace, to the ground.

“Quickly,” she urged, her voice growing breathy.

Nikola needed no more invitation and quickly loosened the rest of the laces until, with a final tug from Helen, the contraption fell to the ground with a heavy thud.

Helen sighed in relief, bending forwards and resting her arms on the work bench. From where Nikola was, he could see the bandage on her leg as well as a few specks of blood high on the chemise that he had missed.

“Whoever designed this contraption was clearly never required to get anywhere in a hurry,” Helen muttered, throwing a dark glare at the offending corset where it lay, discarded.

Nikola let out a choked laugh at her humour, unable to keep his eyes from her body, clothed as it was in the finest chemise he had ever seen. Not that he had seen particularly many. Back home, his family had been well off enough that his sisters had owned such things, yet the nature of their lives had kept them in far simpler clothes than Helen preferred.

She was something of a curiosity to him, a female with the mind and will of a man, yet so clearly feminine beneath it all. Her education, her passion for science, none of it seemed to affect her sense of who she was, despite the contradictions it presented. And now, seeing her barely dressed and leaning against his workbench, Nikola couldn’t help but feel some kind of... attraction to her. She was beautiful, yes. And he understood why men fell at her feet, yes. But this was... new. This was an entire sent of sensations he was unused to.

Slowly, Helen turned to face him, a surprisingly shy smile lifting her lips.

“Thank you, Nikola,” she said quietly, a blush tinting her cheeks. “I... I am sorry if I have made you uncomfortable in any way. It was not my intention.”

“I am fine,” Nikola replied, his voice cracking somewhat on the last word. He smiled, cleared his throat, and tried again, his voice closer to its normal pitch. “I am fine, Helen.”

She smirked at him before shaking her head.

“Regardless, I am grateful,” she said, moving forward to take his hand in hers. “You are a true friend to me, Nikola.”

His heart soared at that and he found himself grinning at her like the fool he was. The only thing that saved his ego, was the fact the she was smiling back at him with equal gusto. Somehow, they found themselves stepping closer to one another, Helen’s free hand moving to cup his cheek, her thumb running across his moustache ever so gently. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the touch, leaning into her hand as their fingers intertwined.

“You are a singular woman, Miss Magnus,” he said, enjoying the sparkle of humour in her eyes. “Though I think if you are to make a habit of disrobing in my work space, I shall have to insist you keep a spare set of clothing here, if only to protect my reputation.”

“You cad!” she cried with a laugh. “Have you not a thought to spare for my reputation?”

“Of course not,” he scoffed, his confidence growing as her humour grew. “You shall besmirch my good name if I am not careful.”

“Well then, I shall just leave,” she said with a grin. “Please have my dress repaired and returned to me as soon as you can.”

“I shall not be held responsible if you catch a chill out there,” he replied, despite the fact that she had made no move to leave.

“I shall hold you very much responsible,” she said. “In fact, I shall insist on you playing nursemaid and place you in charge of bringing me back to full health.”

At that, Nikola found himself laughing freely, marvelling at the woman before him.

She was unlike any one else of his acquaintance.

“Let me help with your skirts,” he said, reaching for the offending garment. “We can call you a carriage and shroud you in blankets and no one will be any the wiser.”

She smiled gratefully, allowing Nikola to kneel at her feet and hold open the crumpled skirts she had thrown off. Together, they guided the item up her body, fastening it around her waist once more.

Once he was certain she was somewhat more presentable, he scooped up her top and offered it to her but Helen shook her head.

“Without the corset it is no use,” she admitted. “And though my ribs feel somewhat better now, I have no interest in attempting to squeeze them back into the correct shape to fit that garment. A blanket will suffice.”

Nikola was tempted to argue, certain they’d be caught as they attempted to make their way from the building to a waiting carriage yet Helen was already busying herself with fixing her hair, apparently waiting for him to locate a blanket.

And he would. Eventually. But in that moment, all he wanted was to reach out and... and... and suddenly his hand was capturing hers, pushing back the loose curls that shrouded her eyes. The soft smile he received made his heart jump and his toes tingle.

He ought to say something, he realised. Something nice. Something sweet. Something kind. Something-

And then the door flew open.

It all happened in half a second yet, somehow, Nikola knew it was a second that would change the course of his future.

The people who entered were talking merrily, smiling and laughing until their eyes landed on Nikola and Helen. On instinct, he pulled her to stand behind him, hiding her state of undress as best he could from their intruders.

But it was no use.

“Father,” Helen gasped, her tone laced with sheer fear that Nikola felt racing up his own spine.

“Helen,” the woman said, apparently horrified.

“Aunt May,” Helen squeaked and Nikola felt her hands ball in his jacket, holding him in place like a shield.

“Mr Tesla,” Dr Magnus snarled, his face red with rage.

And it was then, right then, that Nikola knew for certain, nothing would ever be the same again.


	3. Stand on ceremony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THE ceremony.

“In the presence of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, we have come together to witness the marriage of Helen and Nikolas,” the priest intoned and Helen had to stifle a smirk at the twitch of annoyance that flickered across Nikola’s face at the new name he had apparently been bequeathed.

“To pray for God's blessing on them, to share their joy and to celebrate their love.”

_“You cannot be serious father!" Helen cried, following him into the study as quickly as she could manage. They had been having the same fight for nearly a day now and yet Helen still struggled to concede defeat._

_"I am perfectly serious,” he snarled in reply, face a deep, menacing shade of purple. “You will marry him or you will no longer be my daughter.”_

_"But nothing happened! He was simply helping me. It was the abnormal, I told you,” she said desperately, gesturing to the injured leg her father had already seen to._

_"And I told, that does not matter. The details are of little consequence when you so publicly shamed yourself!”_

_“I did no such thing,” was her vehement reply. She reached for him as he turned away, tugging on his sleeve until he broke free of her grasp with a desperate cry. “Please, Father. See reason.”_

_“You defiled yourself, girl,” he roared. “You have defiled yourself and my good name. What man would have you now, hmm? What sensible man would even consider courting a harlot who saw no issue with disrobing for a strange man to whom she had no formal connection?”_

_“But I don’t want to marry,” she replied, barely holding back tears. “I never wanted to marry. Not Nikola, not anyone. I want to study. I want to learn.”_

_"Do you really think that the Deans will allow you back on campus now? You were treated as a passing curiosity before but now... You are damaged, spoiled, rotten. You have ruined what precious little reputation you had and destroyed any chance you may have ever had of entering that establishment as anything more than an auditor.”_

_“But why should they even have to know?” Hastily, Helen scrubbed a tear from her cheek, terrified of what such weakness would seem in the eyes of her father._

_“Because they already do. Your Aunt May was rightly terrified by what you forced her to witness. I had to sell it as a love match for the sake of protecting you from the worst of gossip but the fact that you were unclothed, unchaperoned, and, apparently, unrepentant, will no doubt have made the rounds already. More than one of the professors has already been in contact with me to clear up what has occurred. Mr. Tesla’s scholarship is to be revoked and they are considering banning you both from any scholarly institutions in England.”_

_“But surely you could-“_

_“No! I will hear no more of this,” he spat, eyes burning with fury. “You have disgraced me, Helen. You have disgraced our family and our reputation, which, may I remind you, has borne enough scrutiny since you insisted upon Oxford. You are marrying him, and that is final.”_

_He turned on his heel, brushing past her as he strode down the corridor, servants scurrying from his path._

_“He won’t have me!” Helen cried out, too desperate to care what reaction she might provoke. “You’ll see. Nikola shan’t marry me.”_

_He didn’t turn, letting the solid oak door slam behind him as he retreated to the library._

_“He shan’t,” Helen whispered to herself, terrified and elated by the idea all at once._

“Marriage is a gift of God in creation through which husband and wife may know the grace of God. It is given that as man and woman grow together in love and trust, they shall be united with one another in heart, body and mind, as Christ is united with his bride, the Church.”

_“You’re late,” Dr Magnus growled as Nikola was ushered into the study._

_“I... I didn’t realise I was expected,” he stammered in reply._

_“You ought to have come the day after... the incident,” he said tersely. “This... waiting... You should have come straight away. It won’t do.”_

_“I am... I am sorry,” Nikola tried. “I came to apologise. To Helen. And yourself. I... And...”_

_“You are here to ask for my daughter’s hand in marriage,” Gregory finished, staring Nikola down._

_Nikola swallowed. That had not been his plan. It had not even crossed his mind. Surely it was not expected of him... Was it?_

_“Well?”_

_Marriage. To Helen._

_“Tesla?”_

_It was unfathomable. Unthinkable. Incredible. Undoable. He did not want to marry. He did not want a wife. And surely Helen did not want him for a husband? What had he to offer an English rose like herself? He had not a penny to his name, nor title or even a particularly bright future ahead of him. He could think of many men better suited to the task of loving Helen Magnus. Not that she thought u_

_“Mr Tesla, I’d advise you to answer me within the next three seconds or else I may be forced to-“_

_“Does she want me?”_

_“Pardon?”_

_“Does Helen... Did she... Is this what she wants?”_

_Gregory paused at that, something stormy clouding his expression that made Nikola regret his words._

“The gift of marriage brings husband and wife together in the delight and tenderness of sexual union and joyful commitment to the end of their lives. It is given as the foundation of family life in which children are [born and] nurtured and in which each member of the family, in good times and in bad, may find strength, companionship and comfort, and grow to maturity in love.”

_“I thought it was a love match?” she heard one girl whisper as she walked by._

_“They were forced to marry quickly,” her friend replied in a not quite hushed tone. “They were caught, unchaperoned.”_

_Helen stifled her sigh and looked back down to her glass of champagne. In the three weeks since everything had come to pass, she’d made a considerable effort to avoid public scrutiny however, tonight, her father had put his foot down._

_Apparently she was not to become a recluse. Despite the fact that for years now she’d avoided balls and parties and the like. And to make matters worse, her supposed fiancé was to be in attendance too._

_They hadn’t seen each other since his stilted marriage proposal in front of her father, aunt, and most senior of household staff. She’d curtsied, smiled, and held out her hand. He’d kissed it, bowed and, after a few pleasantries about the weather, she had retired for the night._

_It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see Nikola. In fact, she was almost desperate to, she just didn’t think she could pretend to be in desperate love with him for the audience that had assembled tonight. Already, she’d had to put up with the false congratulations from people pretending to be kindly friends and the thought of dancing and smiling and keeping up the façade of love had her light-headed._

_Her life was over, could her father just not let her mourn in peace?_

“Marriage is a way of life made holy by God, and blessed by the presence of our Lord Jesus Christ with those celebrating a wedding at Cana in Galilee. Marriage is a sign of unity and loyalty which all should uphold and honour. It enriches society and strengthens community. No one should enter into it lightly or selfishly but reverently and responsibly in the sight of almighty God.”

_“And after we are...” Nikola cleared his throat, looking out the small window of his apartments. “What is to happen, after the wedding?”_

_“You’ll go on a honeymoon,” Dr Magnus barked. “A year or so should do it. Perhaps by then the scandal will have quieted down.”_

_“A year?” Nikola stuttered. A year was too long, surely. A year would mean a year away from work, from study, from science. It would send Helen mad just as surely as it would him._

_“A year,” Magnus repeated. “I’ve already organised it all. You shall leave by carriage shortly after the reception. The rest is taken care of. You will be met at each destination by transportation and accommodation until you reach Prague, in which I have organised for you to stay for the-“_

_“I want to go home,” Nikola blurted out. With each word the old Dr Magnus said, his skin was growing clammier and his heart more unsteady. A year of travel, of foreign places, of no experimenting. If he was to travel all that way, he may as well attempt to visit his family, to explain why the science that he professed himself married to had been replaced by a woman they did not know. His mother would never forgive him for marrying in England but perhaps a trip with his new bride would soothe her anger somewhat._

_So far, he had not even summoned the courage to write and tell her of what had transpired._

_“Pardon me?”_

_“I want to go home,” Nikola said, a little more clearly. “If we are to travel all that way, I wish to visit my family. To go see my native country once more.”_

_Gregory said nothing, simply eyeing him off._

_“It is remote,” Nikola continued. “Far away from any who would know Helen or yourself. And perhaps even expected. After all, it would only be right for Helen to meet my family and for them to meet her. We could stay with my parents, I know my mother would not object and... and... and...” He trailed off, grasping for more reasons that a visit to what would be a horrendously snowy Serbia would be within reason._

_“All right,” Gregory said slowly. “Serbia. Give me the address of your parents. It shall be... appropriate. More suitable than Prague, perhaps.”_

_Nikola sighed heavily, relieved beyond measure._

_And, as he stood there, his measurements being taken by the tailor, he let himself think that perhaps a year in which he could visit his family may not be as wretched as once thought._  
  
“Nikolas and Helen are now to enter this way of life-“

“It’s Nikola,” Helen cut in, glancing at the priest. She knew her voice would carry and that it would enrage her father beyond all else but, if she was to marry, the very least they could do was give her soon to be husband the name he was born with.

The priest gave her an odd look.

“Nikola,” she repeated. “His name, is Nikola. Nikola Tesla.”

For a long moment, neither spoke, the priest simply staring at the young woman who had dared interrupt him.

But then, just as abruptly as he stopped, he started again.

“They will each give their consent to the other and make solemn vows, and in token of this they will give and receive a ring. We pray with them that the Holy Spirit will guide and strengthen them, that they may fulfil God's purposes for the whole of their earthly life together.”

On the mention of the ring, Helen’s eyes, for the first time since she’d stepped up to the alter, landed upon her almost-husband. He flinched at the word but met her gaze, his clear grey eyes surprisingly misty. They both wore gloves to fight the cold autumn air but even through the layers of fabric, Helen could feel the warmth of his fingers where they held hers.

All at once, she felt a swell of affection for the man standing across from her. Though they had little chance to speak since their impromptu engagement, he had done nothing but apologise for all that he had bought down upon them, sneaking softly worded pleas for her forgiveness into every moment they had together. It was incredibly difficult to direct her anger at the man standing before her when he seemed just as terrified of their wedding as she was.

She supposed she should be pleased to find a man who would take her despite her obvious defects, something her father had reminded her of several times, but she couldn’t help but feel that her life was being ripped out of her hands and tossed to the mercy of society. Could she not play the spinster? Surely her father’s reputation would recover from this little hiccup; if he could just allow her to weather the gossip, she’d come out fine, she just knew it.

But then, suddenly, Nikola was speaking and repeating after the priest. His thick accent marred each word and his obvious terror shook each syllable, but his voice was carrying around the room and Helen felt the blood drain from her face.

“I, Nikola Tesla, take you, Helen Patricia Magnus, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward; for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy law. In the presence of God I make this vow.”

She wanted to cry. This was it. The end. Everything she had ever wanted was about to be sworn over to a man she could not profess love to. She cared for him a great deal, more than strictly proper but Nikola Tesla was her friend, not her husband. She was fairly sure he didn’t even want a wife, let alone  _her._ Heavens, the man was afraid of touching people most of the time, what on earth was he going to do with a wife?

The priest turned to her, his eyes cold and unforgiving and Helen all of a sudden felt like she was four years old again, railing against the decisions her parents had made for her. She felt the tears burning the corners of her eyes, a sob threatening to escape her throat yet she couldn’t let it. She had to remain strong. She had to make it clear that she was stronger than her father, stronger than any of them expected. She would not cry.

So instead, she gritted her teeth and looked Nikola dead in the eye.

“I, Helen Patricia Magnus, take you, Nikola Tesla, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward; for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish and obey, till death us do part, according to God's holy law. In the presence of God I make this vow.”

Each word made her nerve endings grow dull, her sensitivity to the environment around her fading away until all that mattered was her own resolve. She could sense Nikola’s hands beginning to shake against her own and knew that his eyes would be searching her face for any sign or signal yet she couldn’t remember how to care.

The rest of the ceremony passed in a blur; the priest droned on about marriage, readings were given and finally, a ring was slipped onto Helen’s hand yet she noticed none of it. It was all background noise. An inconvenience and nothing more. She could not allow herself to hear it, to experience it. She would not survive if she did. As it was, she was barely remembering to breathe, for the most part. Anything further seemed like too much of a stretch.

Until Nikola was told that he may kiss his new wife. That most certainly caught her attention. In the weeks leading up to this dreadful affair, Helen had had the ceremony drilled into her to the point where she was certain she could perform her duty in her sleep. But no one had mentioned kissing. Was she really expected to kiss Nikola?

Her gaze flicked to Nikola, his expression just as bewildered as her own, with a side of absolute terror thrown in for good measure. It was enough to startle a manic giggle from Helen. The noise echoed around the room in the most undignified manner but it seemed to make Nikola smile a little, something for which Helen was grateful. If he could just stop looking so sombre, perhaps she would think of a way out of this for them.

With a shrug of his shoulders, he leaned in slowly, brushing his lips against hers without the least hesitation. Yet it completely lacked passion, much to Helen’s delight. With a little sense and a lot of courage, perhaps they could make this into a connection of friendship, rather than an awkward, unwanted encumbrance.

Together they turned to face the congregation of politely clapping guests and, in sync, walked down the small stairs and along the aisle of familiar faces. They did not touch, or link arms as her father had instructed they do but, for once, Helen did not fear his wrath. After all, he’d effectively disposed of her, leaving Nikola to be her ‘master’.

If he truly thought he could ‘master’ her though, he had another thing coming.

**Author's Note:**

> I have grand plans that have a tendency of escaping my control. This may have done that. But there is a fair bit of it so at least the chaos will last a while.


End file.
